


The stinkiest feet in Vorkuta

by irithnova



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games), Call of Duty Black Ops
Genre: Foot Fetish, Oops, Other, Stinky feet, yummy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 00:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20497958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irithnova/pseuds/irithnova
Summary: Mason and Reznov are bored in solitary confinement and so they play a game





	The stinkiest feet in Vorkuta

The only sound that resonated in the "cell" was drops of water from the rusted pipe above them falling to the ground. It could be said that the water was the only thing in the cell which could be considered clean, in fact, this cell should be called a sewer rather than a cell. The repugnant pile of layer after layer of mud mixed with shit mixed with bones and God knows what, sat like a pile of potatoes at the far end of the cell. Now that I think about it, you're probably wondering how big this "cell" is? Well you see, this cell is special, as it is used for solitary confinement, for multiple prisoners at once, as the prisoners in this gulag are known to misbehave frequently, so the guards need all the space they have to contain a certain few. Our "certain few" at the moment, are Alex Mason and Viktor Reznov. 

There wasn't much to do in solitary confinement, the old jokes about the sack of shit were getting old, but, now that he thinks about it, Mason does feel a bit sorry for the pile of shit. It sat there, isolated in the corner, so pathetically, like all the life has been sucked out of it. It wasn't even a solid pile of shit, it at least could be standing tall, as if to say "Yeah, I'm a pile of shit, deal with it!", but instead, it sags pathetically. If that pile of shit was a person, Mason thought, he'd be perfect for the role of the Hunchback from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Once when Reznov got philosophical, he said that the pile of shit was a metaphor for what Vorkuta does to you once you've been in there long enough. Well, Reznov's been in here for 18 years and he's not a hunchback. Yet.

"Hey Reznov, let's play a game.", Mason blurted out. A odd thing for a 30 something year old man to say, sure, but it was better than personifying that mountain of crap.

Reznov smirked, "Like what?" 

Shit. He hadn't thought of this. Then it hit him, "Let's name the stinkiest thing in this room-", his eyes darted to the shit pile, "other than the shit pile"

"Mason, the stinkiest thing in this room is obviously your breath"

Mason chuckled lowly at that. Hygiene is not a priority when you're in a gulag, however now that he's not occupied with strenuous labour and asshole prison guards, all he is occupied with now is his desire to take a shower. A new idea.

"Let's see who, between the two of us, is the stinkiest-" "Mason", Reznov interrupted. Mason initially could not read the look on his face, was he angry? Excited? Tired? Aroused? He feared he pushed Reznov too far, and now Reznov was going to go full slav-mode on him. It took him a few seconds for him to realise that Reznov was trying to hold himself back from going into conniption. 

"Sure", Reznov finally said, "how should we judge each others odour? What body part do you think suits best?" 

Feet. Mason always prided himself on how his revolting his foot odour could get. Back when he was a boy in Alaska, he didn't need a gun to defend himself from the wild. All he had to do was pull his feet from out of his snow boots and every bear within a 5 mile radius of him sprinted in the other direction. During training for the USMC, his boots quickly became stench trenches, and taking them off in any room would make the room reek with his abominable odour. He was sure to beat Reznov at this game. 

"I say, we sniff each others feet", Mason gloated. This was like their very own cold war going on in this cell. America vs Russia, who's feet could emit the viler stench? Reznov raised an eyebrow at Mason's excitement. Perhaps Vorkuta was too much for this American and he was slowly going mad? Maybe the brainwashing caused him to be obsessed with feet rather than killing Dragovich, Kravchenko and Steiner? Anyhow, he took his boot off and gestured at Mason to do the same. 

Big mistake. You thought Reznov's biggest mistake was not killing Dragovich as soon as he had the opportunity to? No, that "mistake" is pitiful, minor, feeble compared to this mistake. The "mistake" of not killing Dragovich is a cucked beta manlet compared to the Chad, beefy, alpha, testosterone drenched mistake, of telling Alex Mason to take his shoes off. 

As soon as the boot was removed, Reznov realised that he should not have underestimated the American. The smell was rancid to say the least. It smelled overwhelmingly of meat and cheese. That is, if the meat was rotten, damp, and left out in the sun, gathering swarms of flies and their squirming larvae among with them to feast on the putrid carcass, the sun's scorching heat amplifying the stink, if the cheese was so rotten that if you looked closely enough, you could see miniscule worms slithering and contorting their slender little forms around each other. He began to cough and sputter everywhere. Good lord, what is wrong with this American? He became engulfed with the urge to vomit, and his eyes began to well up and burn at the same time. Is this what Dimitri felt before he succumbed to Nova 6? Oh, Dimitri... 

"Reznov? Reznov!" Mason swiftly thrust his foot back into his boot and helped Reznov up, however, he was already unconscious.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Lev was slouched on a chair at the back of the office, languidly sucking on a cigarette. The look on his face could only be described as amused as he observed Nikita interrogate Steiner on their most recent failure. 

"So you are telling me that the time we spent on this American is useless?", Dragovich barked. Steiner sighed heavily and slumped into his chair, "Not exactly..."

"What do you mean?", interjected Kravchenko. "Well you see, the American does seem to have quite the, err, stench", said Steiner.

Dragovich wrinkled his nose in disgust, "I am very aware of that and I do not wish to be reminded of it" 

"Over the course of the brainwashing, I took samples from his feet and, to put it simply, I made Nova 6 smell like his feet" A wide grin crept up onto Dragovich's face. He looked at Kravchenko. Lev stood up, finished his cigarette and promptly threw it onto the floor and stomped on it. "I guess this wasn't useless after all. Well done Herr Steiner."


End file.
